


The Nostalgia of Your Youth

by Ange_Ampoule



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28000926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ange_Ampoule/pseuds/Ange_Ampoule
Summary: A story of a magical kingdom grown over and left to rot by its previous owner, only to have said ruler return in a flash of light; mentions of trans-masc and trans-feminine identities with some good gay shit.





	The Nostalgia of Your Youth

**Author's Note:**

> WIP. Any writing notes are appreciated. This is for fun, and to exercise my writing skills.

It started with a well, as all things might if each instance of sudden existence appeared next to a stone moss-riddled structure. 

Blinking against the sudden sunlight, one might see miles of grassy plains in front of them, knee-high flowers dancing in the breeze. If one stood, one might discover themselves adorned in a flowing white cotton dress, sashed at the waist and cut low to show the freckles spattering the collarbone.

Her name was lost to her as she came into herself; One was Her and She was One, and she was Queen. She remembered it now, the quiet crowning ceremony full of anxiety and emptiness. The king of the time was her betrothed, she recalled, as she stepped forward towards a hill for unknown reasons other than that she must. They had been so young, mere children of fourteen; he had offered his hand as a peace offering to her unruly nature, and the only thing that had saved him from losing his limb was his eyes. They captured her soul and swam with it, keeping her steady but prisoner. 

She reasoned for a moment, trying to remember how she felt with him; they had been so warm together, so playful and cunning. They had a secret longing for each other that their shyness couldn't overcome, and any companionship in the night was accompanied by darkness and thick sheets to hide themselves from each other's eyes. Their naivity and age didn't stop the king from asking for heirs; she grimaced as she remembered, a hand fluttering to her lower belly, tracing the scar of how her son was born silent and cold into a too-eager world. Her body was too fragile and small to give him what he needed; she was bedridden for weeks afterward, and nothing from her dear husband could convince her to smile. 

It took two years to trust that he had gotten over needing an heir.

When they arrived at the tender age of sixteen, he asked again, but this time asked for a daughter, so that they might focus on giving her love and attention instead of duty and righteous privilege. The queen only agreed on the condition that she was allowed to continue her experiments in her laboratory; it was built high, in the attic space above the grand boudoir. The king begrudgingly agreed, his love for his wife only slightly holding precedence over the protectiveness of his unborn kin. She disappeared to work for days and nights, often coming to their bed smelling of smoke and acidic toxins. It wrinkled his nose to be around her, so he would try to avoid her, using a personal guard as a stand-in for her protection. 

One day, the queen emerged from her laboratory with a flask, bubbling and gray. She ran to the throne room to her love, and presented it with glee; this, she cried, would prevent further heartbreak for the both of them. This, she shouted, would prevent everything.

With a flourish, she drank the flask and dropped it; the glass splintered against the blood-stained marble. A horrible pain filled her as she doubled over, screaming as agony overcame her senses; a sharp lightning bolt cracked through the ceiling and struck the throne, killing the king in a heartbeat. 

It took a millenia to wake up, but she was here now.

And she was ready to rule.


End file.
